Nami Enid
Title
Nami Enid
Description
The best part of this horrific pandemic is our grand-daughter, Nami Enid Khan, age 2 ½. When her day care closed down in March, her mother had to decide how she would continue to do her job as a nurse tending to people with end stage renal disease. We collectively decided that Nami’s days would be best spent in our household, and that we would limit our exposure to COVID, insofar as possible, to her and her mother. Her day care is gradually opening, but we do not feel safe enough sending her back yet, and I don’t know when we will.
She is with us every weekday from 7:20-4:20. She watches a little bit of Sesame Street with Nana, and then she comes upstairs for a snack and play time with Grandma. We read, we talk a lot, we sing, we paint, we play with homemade Play-doh on the kitchen floor with real cookie cutters, a cutting board, and a real rolling pin, we bake Play-doh cookies in our “oven,” using a real timer, and count down the time. We clap vigorously when it dings. We make art for Mama and other people we love. At 11 am, we go outside with Nana, where we run around A LOT and get really tired out. We have nice neighbors, who allow us to visit their yards. Our next door neighbor lets us roam her two-level deck. When Nami comes in around noon, we have a cozy lunch in the breakfast nook, until Nami is just worn out and retreats upstairs for a nap.
We turn on the white noise machine, and the baby monitor. We sing Down in the Valley to her, and by the third verse, she chimes in. “Write me a letter, containing two lines, saying you love me, and that you’ll be mine.” I tell her I am right here, and to call me as soon as she wakes up from her deep sleep. She always calls me, and I always go up to greet her. Occasionally, as she is clearing away the cobwebs of sleep, she asks to be held like a baby and rocked in the rocking chair my mother gave me 55 years ago.
The happiest time in my life was that short seven-year span when our two daughters were small, when I was a stay at home mom. Today, in retirement, the quarantine has given me that gift a second time.
She is with us every weekday from 7:20-4:20. She watches a little bit of Sesame Street with Nana, and then she comes upstairs for a snack and play time with Grandma. We read, we talk a lot, we sing, we paint, we play with homemade Play-doh on the kitchen floor with real cookie cutters, a cutting board, and a real rolling pin, we bake Play-doh cookies in our “oven,” using a real timer, and count down the time. We clap vigorously when it dings. We make art for Mama and other people we love. At 11 am, we go outside with Nana, where we run around A LOT and get really tired out. We have nice neighbors, who allow us to visit their yards. Our next door neighbor lets us roam her two-level deck. When Nami comes in around noon, we have a cozy lunch in the breakfast nook, until Nami is just worn out and retreats upstairs for a nap.
We turn on the white noise machine, and the baby monitor. We sing Down in the Valley to her, and by the third verse, she chimes in. “Write me a letter, containing two lines, saying you love me, and that you’ll be mine.” I tell her I am right here, and to call me as soon as she wakes up from her deep sleep. She always calls me, and I always go up to greet her. Occasionally, as she is clearing away the cobwebs of sleep, she asks to be held like a baby and rocked in the rocking chair my mother gave me 55 years ago.
The happiest time in my life was that short seven-year span when our two daughters were small, when I was a stay at home mom. Today, in retirement, the quarantine has given me that gift a second time.
Identifier
FL.quarantine.013
Collection
Citation
Anonymous, “Nami Enid,” Ferguson Library Digital Archives, accessed April 28, 2024, https://www.fergusonlibraryarchive.org/document/FL.quarantine.013.
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